I found a few pages of an unfinished screenplay over the weekend, and this scene made me smile although I have no recollection of writing it.  It takes place in a record company where our protagonist, Peter, works as a talent scout. He and his friend Abby are meeting a new artist that the label might want to sign, a hardcore rapper type.

MACHETE: I’m Macheté.

He pronounces it “Mash-sheh-TAY.”

PETER: Machete?

MACHETE: No, Macheté. With an accent at the end.

PETER: Wait a minute...I know you.

Macheté looks at him suspiciously.

PETER: You’re Tim Mason. You were in that boy band, The Virgin Daquiris.

MACHETE: Long time ago, bro.

PETER: Yeah, but you had that number one song, “I’m Your Sir Galahad”!

Macheté glares at him.

ABBY: He hates to talk about that song.

PETER (singing): “I’m your Sir Galahad, and you’re the Gal I had...”

MACHETE: Can it.

PETER: Catchy tune.

Macheté takes a menacing step in Peter’s direction.

MACHETE: Maybe you’d like to catch my fist.

ABBY: Boys, boys.  Let’s respect the fact that Macheté is moving on, upgrading his image.

MACHETE: Yeah, urban sound’s better for me than that boy band crap. Allows me to channel the pain of my youth.

PETER: Pain, what pain? I read about you, you were middle-class suburban. What do you sing about, your Mom putting parental controls on the TV so you couldn’t watch Skinemax?

That’s the last straw. Macheté LUNGES at Peter. They collide into a table, knocking over glasses.

ABBY: Jesus!

She wades into them, forcibly separates them.

MACHETE: He insulted my honor!

ABBY: Peter just doesn’t understand, uh, the code of the street.

PETER: What, you mean the cheat codes for Grand Theft Auto?

I have no idea where I was going with the scene, but I do like the idea of a character named “Macheté” with an accent.  Maybe that’s a whole story right there.